Happy Endings
by Avelera
Summary: Based on the Herald Mage Trilogy. Everyone deserves a happy ending, and not just Vanyel! StefTylendel has an important encounter not long before going to the Bardic College, which gains him forgiveness from the OTHER person he wronged with his death. Thi


Happy Endings  
  
Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Mercedes Lackey, even Gallia for reasons which you will find out.  
  
A/N: This is just a short, feel-good fic about forgiveness and love. There is some dialogue towards the end which does have some double meanings, if you can pick them up (not those kinds! Get your mind out of the gutter ;).

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The little beggar boy shifted uneasily on the hard stone step in front of the temple of Astera. One of the commandments of Astera was good-will to all those less fortunate then oneself, so naturally the area was a breeding ground for beggars and other unfortunates. Why steal money when some people gave it freely? Of course, this made it much harder for Berte to make money on her own. Almost every Friday (when she was sober) she would leave the young boy outside the Temple just as the mass ended and the worshippers were brimming with good-will for their fellow man. He would put on his most sad puppy-dog face, letting one strand of his auburn hair fall across his eye, and hold out one small hand holding a tin cup for alms. Compared with the other occupants of the step, he looked like a bemused cherub fallen to earth. They couldn't resist him.  
  
Unfortunately, Astera was a tolerant goddess, allowing those of all status, wealth, and sexual interest into her doors. Many a time had the young beggar-boy had to trust to his wits and his feet to keep him from the more…persistent admirers. The first time he had fled, Berte had beaten him for not going with the man or at least coming back for more coins. But the feel of them man's strong hand on his shoulder and hot breath in his face was too vivid in the boy's mind and he decided that he would much rather face one of Berte's beatings than that.  
  
As the last few stragglers began to make their way out the gates, the boy's mind wandered. Berte would be back soon and the prospect of food mixed with the smell of sausages from a nearby cart made his mouth water. Perhaps the baker on Horn Street had left some stale bread out back…  
  
The sound of a coin hitting the bottom of his tin cup roused him from his reverie. He glanced in astonishment into the cup. Atop the small pile of coppers lay a silver piece! Adjusting his voice to the most small, pathetic chirp of thanksgiving he could manage, he looked up…  
  
Into the most beautiful blue eyes he had ever seen.  
  
For a moment all he could do was stare. Never had he seen such eyes in human his entire life (granted, until now he had hardly been tall enough to look anyone but the smallest children in the eye); as bright and blue as the sky on a cloudless summer day. Their gazes locked for a split second then both looked away, a blush rising in both cheeks.  
  
"Thank you, noble lady," he said then blushed even harder when his voice squeaked mid-sentence.  
  
"Think nothing of it," she answered, her gaze still averted.  
  
He plucked up some courage and asked, "May I inquire my lady's name, so that I might include it in my prayers?" he never said his prayers but she didn't know that. When she didn't answer he decided he should go first. "I'm Stefen, but Berte calls me Stef."  
  
"My name's Gallia," she whispered. "But I'm not a lady. That's my father over there. He runs a bakery over on Horn Street. His business isn't going so well so he prayed to the goddess for assistance. Usually we only give a few coppers in alms, but he needs her good will."  
  
Stef stood; tin cup still firmly gripped in his hand, and regarded the girl. The first thing he noticed was that he barely came up to her chin; the next was that besides her remarkable eyes, she was quite plain. Her nose seemed a little too big for her face, her skin a little too pale; contrasting with her black hair which ran an inch or so past her shoulders. The blue dress she was wearing only further paled her complexion, causing dark circles that were barely visible to stand out beneath her eyes. She was also a few years older then him, he figured, by the curves that were beginning to make themselves apparent beneath the simple cut of her dress. Strangely, they didn't bother him like they did some of the other boys his age.  
  
A little ways off he could hear her father calling for her to hurry up. Just as she began to turn he tapped her lightly on the shoulder. She spun to face him, her eyes widening with surprise which she quickly masked. Before she could turn again he asked meekly, "Would my lady mind if I escort her home?"  
  
A tentative smile came to her lips and she offered her arm. Taking it as gallantly as would any fine gentleman he led her down the steps in the wake of her parents, who were only a few yards ahead. Her father opened his mouth to say something but the mother shushed him and they too linked arms and led the children home

* * *

"You be Lord Nedran, and I'll be Herald-Mage Vanyel," Stef said to Gallia. They were standing in the small garden next to the baker's house.  
  
"No, you be Nedran, I'll be Herald Vanyel!" Gallia said petulantly.  
  
"How come you get to be Vanyel?"  
  
"Because Vanyel has black hair, just like me," she answered haughtily with a hint of mischief in her voice.  
  
"How do you know?" he grinned back.  
  
"I saw him ride his Companion through the city once.""Did not!"  
  
"Did too!"  
  
"Did not! I can prove it!"  
  
"How?"  
  
"Tell me which ear Yfandes was missing the tip of!" he challenged.  
She stared, at a loss. Then suddenly a grin came to her face. "That's easy, the left one! She lost it in the Companion's Field when she got in a fight with Dierde."  
  
"How do you know that?" Stef asked, amazed. What he really wanted to know was how he had known about Herald Vanyel's Companion. He could have sworn he didn't even know its name! Now that he thought about it, perhaps he had heard it somewhere. Yes, that was it. Some beggar had probably told them about Herald Vanyel and his Companion. He might have noted the missing tip. But then how did Gallia know how she lost it?  
  
Well that was easy! he thought. She probably heard it from her father. He's gone to the palace…hasn't he?  
  
"How did you know that?" he blurted out then blushed slightly when he realized she had been in mid-sentence.  
  
A strange look passed over her face, "Common knowledge," she recovered. "Everyone knows about Yfandes' ear. I'm surprised you don't!"  
  
"Ok then, you can be Vanyel," he said grudgingly, wanting to change the subject.  
  
She struck a dramatic pose, her whole body poised as if it where being thrown against the wind, which made it rather laughable since it was dead calm.  
  
"Thou hast done evil, Lord Nedran! I, Herald Vanyel have come to stop you!" she put her hand out as if patting an invisible Companion. Stef soon got caught up in the game.  
  
"Hah! Never Vanyel! Thou wilt have to defeat my demons before thou shalt have mine land!" he stated in the best high style he could manage.  
  
"That's not right," Gallia said out of the corner of her mouth.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"You have to offer me gold first."  
  
"No I don't," Stef said.  
  
"Yes you do, it says so in the song."  
  
"What song?"  
  
Gallia sighed, "The one about Vanyel Demonsbane of course! That's what we're acting out!"  
  
The thought of a song wiped all thoughts of play from Stef's mind. "Could you sing it please?"  
  
"Uh," she said gracefully. "I'm not a very good singer."  
  
"Oh, please?" he said, donning his best sad-puppy eyes. "Please?"  
  
"Ok," she said grumpily but her eyes sparkled, contradicting her tone.  
  
She opened her mouth wide and taking a deep breath, began the first strains of the song. Her voice was untrained and squeaked on some of the higher notes but it also carried a kind of innocence that most singers did not attempt when singing this song; preferring to render it loudly with an air of righteousness. It turned out that the song sounded just as good with less embellishment but this mattered little to Stef, for it had already stolen him away.  
  
When she finished she sent a sly smile his way and said, "Now it's your turn."  
  
Instead of panicking, as she had expected, Stef's face flushed with excitement and he bounded into the center of the garden. He struck a dramatic pose, both hands clasped to his bosom, eyes staring adoringly at a space a few feet above Gallia's head. Then he began to sing.  
  
This time it was Gallia's turn to become enraptured, though she was not the only one. The snick of a lock opening in one of the neighboring houses indicated that another also marveled at the sound. Stef's voice, though high, rolled out of his mouth like a great tide; echoing throughout the small enclosure. Gallia felt herself cast adrift then suddenly she felt it. She felt the peasants' fear, tasted Lord Nedran's evil, and her heart swelled as Vanyel turned down each bribe with the answer of truth, justice, and love. She felt the full swell of righteousness and just as she was about to join in and link her own voice with this wondrous creation, the music stopped. She wiped a hand across her face and looked down in shock to see tears stained her hand.  
  
The wondering glitter faded from Stef's eyes and he smiled ruefully at her, "Was I really that bad?"  
  
For a moment she couldn't speak, and then it all came out in a rush. "Oh, Stef! That was one of the…that was the most beautiful thing I've heard in my life!"  
  
Stef's eyes widened and his jaw dropped with shock, "Re-really? It was that good?"  
  
"It was better! Sweet Astera, why aren't you in the Bardic Collegium?"  
  
The words suddenly brought reality crashing back to Stef. "Berte wouldn't be able to afford it. We hardly eat at night as is."  
  
"Oh," was the only answer she gave. An uncomfortable silence passed between the two.  
  
"Well, its getting late," she said, looking uncomfortably at the sky. "Maybe my ma can give you some food."  
  
"Maybe," he murmured.  
  
"Could you come over tomorrow?" she asked.  
  
Stef's head shot up then went down again. "I don't think so. Berte's gonna be real mad if she finds out I've be dallying around all day. If she's sober," he didn't want to tell Gallia that if she wasn't there was likely a beating in it for him. She touched his hand and led him gently into the house where her mother was cooking dinner.  
  
"Mama, could you give Stef here some bread?" Gallia asked. Her mother looked at her then at Stef. A small smile came to her lips and donning a pair of thick cloth gloves; she reached into the hearth and pulled out a loaf. Wrapping it in a clean rag, she handed it to Stef. For a moment he stared at it, then the old laws of the street (where food is a number one priority) kicked in and he stuffed the still-warm loaf into his makeshift coat.  
  
"Thank you, my lady," he said.  
  
Gallia's mother nodded then went back to her work. Touching Stef's hand once more, Gallia led him out the door. The setting sun had lit the sky a brilliant red mixed with gold and traces of violet.  
  
"Goodnight, 'Lendel," Gallia whispered, still gazing after the setting sun.  
"Goodnight, Gala," Stef replied. He took one last glance into her blue eyes, almost violet with the setting sun, and turned back down the dark road home.  
  
They never saw each other again.

* * *

"A Healer will be with you in a moment, Bard Stefen," the trainee said to him then scampered off.  
  
Stefen hardly heard this, instead concentrating intently on getting his first two fingers to move. One too many days playing his fingers to the bone for King Randale had left their mark. He was almost paralyzed with fear at the thought of losing the use of his gittern (or any other instrument), forcing him to rely solely on his voice. Granted, he had a good voice, probably the best in the Collegium; but a Bard without his instruments is like a soldier without his shield-arm. Which is why he had not trusted the future of his Bardic career to herbs as he usually did. This was mainly because the blisters on his fingers (much to his distress) seemed to be developing blisters of their own. Lost in thought (or, more correctly, dread) he didn't hear the Healer enter the room until she was practically standing on his foot.  
  
"Good afternoon," she said in a brisk manner, setting a stack of papers on the small table, and in the same motion grabbing stool. She had a no-nonsense air about her: her dark hair was pulled back into a severe bun and she was wearing a strictly utilitarian green robe. It was with a start that he realized she couldn't be much older then he was. But the lines around her eyes were laugh-lines, not signs of age and her skin was a smooth as any girl he had seen at court.  
  
_It's the robe_, he thought. She must be new to them, since she was by far the youngest person he had seen in Greens. She reached out to inspect his hands and he instantly recoiled.  
  
"I'm not going to bite you," she said tiredly, then firmly but gently grabbed his wrists and pulled his injured hands into her line of sight. She made a small clucking noise and looked up again.  
  
"Well, Master Bard, you've certainly gone and made a mess of yourself. Why don't you tell those gods-be-damned Heralds to leave you alone for awhile! They're wearing you to the bone," she glanced at his hand again, "almost literally."  
  
He opened his mouth to say something but she cut him off. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to Heal you, if you want to have use of these ever again."  
  
He nodded vehemently but before he could react she had grabbed a wet cloth, dabbed each of his fingers and the palm of his hand and gone into a Healing trance. A tingle ran up and down his spine then into his injured hands. As quickly as it had begun, it was over; but his hands still felt sore.  
  
"Umm… my lady," he said politely. She turned back and arched an eyebrow at him.  
  
"The pain is still here," her face softened a bit then became good-naturedly stern.  
  
"Ah, I see, your first Healing. Well, it does come as a bit of a shock for most. I didn't completely Heal them I just sped up the process. You'll have to be careful the next few days and not play any instruments," she winked at him. "That's one way to keep those rabid Heralds off you."  
  
It was in that moment that he finally noticed her eyes. They were the deepest blue he had ever seen in his life…except for once.  
  
"Gallia?!" he stuttered. She stared back at him confusedly.  
  
"Yes, that is my name. That's Healer Gallia to you, though."  
  
"Gallia, I mean, Healer Gallia! Don't you remember? The little beggar boy, outside the Temple of Astera? The one who sang?"  
  
Realization dawned in her eyes, "Stef?"  
  
They embraced, laughing and giggling like children. "Oh, Stef!" Gallia said, "What happened? Why didn't I ever see you again?"  
  
Stef sobered a little, "After you taught me to sing…"  
  
"I didn't teach you to sing!" she said, almost indignantly. "I taught you a song. It was your voice that was magic."  
  
Stef shrugged, "Well, whatever happened, the next day I sang again at some bar. People started throwing coins. That night Berte decided that with my voice we should beg around bigger, more music-friendly crowds," he shook his head. "That took us far away from the steps of Astera's Temple, to the other side of Havens. I couldn't find you. Then one day, a Bard heard me singing for money and took me to…paradise," he stopped speaking for a moment, lost in thought. Suddenly he laughed.  
  
"Then I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked, winking at her.  
  
She planted her hands on her hips, "Well, I don't know. Last time I trusted a man he left me without looking back."  
  
He hung his head in mock-shame, "Can you find it in your great, Healer's heart to forgive me?"  
  
She made a great show of thinking about it, "Maybe. I'll think about it."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"After all, if those crazy Heralds get a hold of you first," she sighed dramatically, "I may never see you alive again."  
  
He fought to keep a straight face, "Well then I shall endeavor to stay alive and thanks to your… weak yet helpful attempt at Healing, I might actually make it."  
  
Suddenly the trainee came running back into the room, gasping for breath. "Healer Gallia, Herald Lorena is hurt bad. You have to come quick!" the trainee's eyes were as big as dinner-plates.  
  
Gallia muttered an oath under her breath then grabbed her Healer's kit, hardly sparing Stef a glance, before she was racing down the hallways.  
  
"Gala!" he called after her. "…goodbye!"  
  
He wasn't sure, but he could have sworn he heard the name "'Lendel" echoing down the hallway. With a grin he realized that no matter what happened: it always turned out fine in the end.

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A/N: This fic makes no attempts at being subtle. Gallia is who you think she is, that's the point. Anyway, while this isn't my best work I'm moderately proud of it but I have not way of knowing how you felt or how anyone felt for that matter if you don't review. I don't even know if anyone is reading it (which you obviously have if you are reading this) unless you do so take a minute and just send me a little note on what you thought.

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For information on future fics and updates delete the spaces from the link below or you can find it on my author page.

http: games. groups. yahoo. com/ group/ Avelerafantasy /


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